Of Tornadoes and Television
by decemberellia
Summary: Being the gentleman that he was, Chuck called Blair Waldorf to see if she needed someone to “warm her up.” Blair decided that she most definitely did, provided that the someone was named Charles Bass. Fluffy CB with its fair share of humor.


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**Of Tornadoes and Television ¸•*¨¯¨*•.,¸_¸,.•*¨¯¨*•.,¸ _ ¸,.•´¯ '»**

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**Disclaimer: **If I owned Chuck Bass, Blair Waldorf, or Gossip Girl, you could bet your bottom dollar that I would not be sitting at my computer writing fan fics. Interpret as you will!

**Summary: **Being the gentleman that he was, Chuck called Blair Waldorf to see if she needed someone to "warm her up." Blair decided that she most definitely did, provided that the someone was named Charles Bass. Fluffy CB with its fair share of humor.

**Setting: **A few days after Season 2's finale.

**A/N: **Wow, even though I feel addicted to this site, I haven't posted in a loooong time. For me, anyway. I had the idea for this one about a week ago but just had no time to write it. Well, voila! It's finally here! :)

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It was a dreary, cold sort of Manhattan day, with rain falling softly on the windowpane, muting the noise of traffic below. Being the gentleman that he was, Chuck called Blair Waldorf to see if she needed someone to "warm her up." Blair decided that she most definitely did, provided that the someone was named Charles Bass. In a flash, he showed up at her doorstep, his hair adorably tousled and wet. Of course he had forgotten to bring an umbrella, since it wasn't as though it was raining or anything. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the spot. It had only been a few days since they had _finally _become an actual couple, and she found herself marveling every minute that he was really hers. A girl could get used to having a charming Basshole at her beck and call.

They were getting pleasantly reacquainted with each other when Eleanor walked by.

"Blair, dear, I'm about to head out for the gala I was telling you about this morning. Would you just look at the rain? It figures that we have the worst weather of the year on–" She stopped short as she caught sight of the two teenagers tumbling on the floor.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf! What are you doing?!" she asked, aghast. "Who is that _boy_?"

They froze.

"Um, it's Chuck," Blair admitted sheepishly. Chuck waved at Eleanor helpfully. "You know, uh, what I was telling you about..." She trailed off.

"Yes, I remember _perfectly clearly_ how you told me that your efforts to 'dress to impress' failed miserably and Chuck here broke your heart _again_." She turned and glared at Chuck.

All they could do was stare at her, at a loss for words.

She threw her hands up in the air.

"Oh, whatever. I honestly don't want to know all of the gory details. So you're together now? That's nice. But I'm not making an exception to the 'no boys allowed in _my_ penthouse' rule. Especially as I won't be home this evening." Chuck and Blair exchanged a meaningful glance.

"I saw that!" she snapped. "Dorota!" Dorota stopped mid-polish and rushed to Eleanor's side. "See to it that these two keep it decent, will you?"

Dorota nodded vigorously and saluted her as she strode out the door. The moment the elevator doors closed, Blair pulled Chuck to his feet and started tugging him up the stairs.

"What are you doing, Miss Blair?" asked Dorota suspiciously.

"Oh, Chuck and I," she said breezily, "are just going to my room to watch a little television."

"There is no television in your room, Miss Blair," Dorota pointed out.

"Oh. Right," said Blair. "Well, can you go get us one? I think they have a TV in the lobby. Borrow it from them."

Dorota shrugged and called the elevator. Blair smiled at Chuck and continued pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom.

"What a wonderful excuse, Waldorf. Now we'll have to actually watch _it_!" he said, with the obvious disgust of a billionaire who deemed himself above such trivialities.

"No, we won't. Besides, there're always those trashy teenage soaps. I know how you adore them." She laughed at his look of shock. "Just kidding! We'll have the TV on as our excuse, but then we just do whatever we want." Blair laughed again as Chuck wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

He reached up and helped her off with her headband so that her dark curls fell loosely around her face. She reciprocated by removing his tie. Again, they were unpleasantly interrupted, this time by a loud gasp from the door. They looked up and saw Dorota, with a television set in her arms and a shocked expression on her face. Blair glanced at the purple tie in her hand, then looked back at Dorota.

"It was cutting off his circulation," she offered with a saccharine smile. Dorota shook her head disapprovingly.

"Not fooling me, Miss Blair," she muttered darkly as she plugged in the small TV. The screen crackled to life, displaying a pixelated baseball game. Great. ESPN.

"Thank you. That's good enough, Dorota," said Blair, feigning a smile so that the suspicious maid would hurry up and leave. She barely kept herself from wincing as the commentator roared on about the baseball game. There was a reason why they were called Manhattan's elite, and it wasn't because they sat around all day watching _sports _on _television_. But sometimes one had to make sacrifices to, say, get a few minutes of uninterrupted make-out time with one's boyfriend.

Dorota finally made it out of the room, only to stick her head back in the door the next moment, trying to catch them in the act. She looked disappointed to find them sitting innocently in front of the television.

"Wow! The Mets are up four touchdowns to one!" Blair exclaimed with fake enthusiasm.

"Great save by the goalie," commented Chuck knowingly.

Dorota narrowed her eyes and shook her head before shutting the door and slinking back down the hallway.

Once they were assured that Dorota had finally left, they turned to each other, one smiling, and one, as always, smirking.

"Now, where were we?" said Blair teasingly.

"Why don't you refresh my memory?" Chuck murmured into her ear.

"My pleasure, Mr. Bass," she smiled, undoing the first button of her blouse excruciatingly slowly. "Right about...here."

"And how it all comes back to me!" remarked Chuck, taking her face in his hands and tilting her lips up to meet his own. It was all Blair could do to keep from melting on the spot. Almost unconsciously, she wove her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. Their mouths moved as one, kissing hungrily, breathing heavily. All of the noises around them faded to a faint buzz. Blair's blouse slipped off one shoulder, and her skirt had already ridden up to mid-thigh. Likewise, Chuck's hair was ruffled, sticking up in several places, and his previously neatly pressed dress shirt was no longer anything of the sort. Even in this disheveled state, they might've easily been the two most beautiful people on the planet.

Again, unfortunately, this moment could not last. Chuck and Blair were rather rudely interrupted, but this time it wasn't Dorota or even Eleanor who spoiled their fun. It was a piercing noise, a wail of sorts, swooping up and down in pitch and volume. They snapped out of their romantically-induced reverie and glanced at their surroundings. The rain had gotten heavier, and, as a result, louder, and the sky had darkened considerably to a deep, inky black. They could even make out the faint booming of distant thunder. Suddenly, the voice on the television came into focus.

"And they're postponing the game on account of weather, 'cause man, is it bad out here! Sit tight, folks. You wouldn't want to get caught in this." A small logo in the upper-left corner of the screen that had previously gone unnoticed seemed to jump out at Chuck. _Severe Weather Warning_. At that moment, the metaphorical gears in his head clicked. He swore. It was a _tornado siren_.

Chuck jumped up and yanked Blair to her feet.

"We've got to get out of here!" he cried. "If the tornado hits us all the way up here, we're doomed! Where's the basement?" Blair looked at him oddly as he pulled her to the elevator door than promptly hauled her off in the other direction.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "You can't ride an elevator in the middle of a tornado! Where are the stairs?"

Blair shrugged. She had always used the elevator before. When one lived on the top floor, one simply did not use stairs. Ever. It was too much work.

"Aha!" called Chuck as he caught sight of the fire escape. "There!" He ran over and shoved up the window until a hole large enough for a person to crawl through was created. Just sticking his head out of the window, he became soaking wet. The iron fire escape had been cast in a decorative grille pattern, providing a clear view of the busy street below. Yikes. The siren had become much louder. He glanced back at Blair.

"I'll go first and help you out the window!" he called, before his glance traveled downward and he saw her shoes. Blair was wearing a brand new pair of fire-engine red stilettos. There was no way she could walk on the fire escape without getting stuck or breaking a heel.

Chuck sighed and wiggled through the window. The cold, fat droplets plastered his hair to his forehead. He held out his arms, motioning for Blair to crawl through. Though she was obviously scared, she nodded resolutely and squeezed through the gap. The moment she was through, Chuck swung her into his arms and began to race down the fire escape. He had no way of knowing how long they had before the tornado hit.

Powered by pure adrenaline, Chuck flew down the stairs and turned corners like a champion sprinter. Blair clung to his neck. By now, their clothes were both completely saturated with water. This had turned Blair's blouse quite distractingly transparent, but Chuck willed his mind to focus. He had to save her from the impending natural disaster.

Finally, after a few minutes that felt like a few eons, they reached the bottom of the fire escape. Chuck was panting and his legs felt like they were about to buckle out from under him. He glanced down. They were still several dozen feet off of the ground! While a jump might not be suicide, it would certainly result in several broken bones. Chuck roared with frustration and ran back up to the nearest window. He pounded on the glass with one fist, using the other to support Blair.

A curious woman wearing a towel wrapped into a turban and a fuzzy pink bathrobe came to the window and drew back the curtains. If she was startled to see two sopping wet teenagers at her window, she didn't show it. She merely narrowed her eyes and sized them up.

"Let us in! There's a tornado coming!" bellowed Chuck.

"What?" screamed the woman, opening the window so she could hear. The storm was quite loud and made it difficult to understand what he was saying. Chuck pushed the window open the rest of the way and deposited Blair into the apartment before vaulting over the sill himself. The lady looked at him in shock as he grabbed Blair's hand and raced out of her front door.

"WehavetogobyeI'mChuckBasscallmelaterandI'llcompensateforyourtroubles!" he shouted as the couple made a quick exit. The woman stood there, gaping. The ladies at bridge club would never believe this!

Thankfully, the woman's apartment was small and so shared the level with several others. This meant that there was a clearly visible communal staircase in the center of the floor. Chuck pulled Blair down it at breakneck speed. They raced down to the next landing. The lobby. He continued, swinging around and pushing open the door marked "EMPLOYEES AND AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY." A small set of stairs beyond it led down into darkness. The basement!

Chuck and Blair dashed down the stairs into the basement, where they passed several laundry machines and shelves chock full of miscellaneous items. Chuck found a wall with no windows and led Blair over to it. Blair assumed the "tornado drill position," covering her head with her hands and folding her legs up underneath herself. Chuck laid on top of her, his heart racing, prepared to use his body to shield her from the storm.

He was very much surprised when she burst out into side-splitting laughter.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked suspiciously. Blair gasped for breath but couldn't stop laughing in order to talk. She convulsed hysterically beneath him. Chuck rolled off of her angrily.

"What, are you laughing at me because you don't think that I make a good enough Prince Charming? I wasn't heroic enough for you? Well, fine, then. You can have _Nate _all to yourself!" He paused. "This is the part where I would walk off in a huff, but I'll wait for the tornado to end. I'm not stupid. Not like Pretty Boy Prince Charming Nate Archibald!"

Blair laughed again, infuriating Chuck even more. He opened his mouth to say something rude, but she pressed her finger to his lips, shushing him.

"_Nate's_ the stupid one?" she choked out between peals of laughter. "_Nate _didn't hear an ambulance's siren and think there was a _tornado_!"

"Who knows," muttered Chuck morosely. "I bet you he did. I mean, he's Natefused all the time–Wait! What did you just say?"

Blair, still giggling, pulled out her phone and dialed Nate.

"Seriously, what did you say?" exclaimed Chuck.

"I'm on the phone!" said Blair, ignoring him. "Hey, Nate. Yeah, I'm good. How are you? Great. So, I'll cut to the chase. Are you or aren't you in a basement right now hiding from a tornado?" She paused, and Chuck could make out an excited noise coming from the other end of the phone. "No, of course there's no tornado, silly!" Chuck certainly felt silly sitting there and listening to this conversation. "Okay, thanks. Yup. Okay, goodbye!" She slid the phone shut and turned to face Chuck, smiling patronizingly. "No, Nate did not in fact run to hide from the _tornado_." She laughed at the irate expression on his face.

"If you knew there was no tornado," said Chuck harshly, "why did you not _tell_ me before I hauled you down that _fire escape_?"

Blair shrugged, smiling.

"I guess I just wanted to see what you would do."

Chuck crossed his arms and sulked.

"Don't be angry!" said Blair coaxingly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered throatily into his ear. "And, for the record, you made a very dashing Prince Charming." Her lips brushed enticingly across the shell of his ear. Chuck cleared his throat in an effort to maintain his composure: a quest that Blair knew was quickly proving to be futile.

He sighed and gave up on being angry at Blair. Sometimes she was just impossible!

"You know," he said, his eyes gleaming devilishly, "It seems such a shame to put this big, empty room to waste. All of this privacy, and no one to enjoy it."

Blair realized where he was going with this. Their clothes were still dripping wet, but that didn't matter, not when they would be taking them off anyway.

She bit her lip and smiled seductively at him. Why weren't all tornado drills this much fun?

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review! Please pretty please with a cherry on top! ^.~


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